


I Will Wait for You

by DanaiaCake



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged up characters, Angst, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, MMA Fighter Otabek, Major Character Injury, Minor Character Death, otayuri - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-07 22:42:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21465715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanaiaCake/pseuds/DanaiaCake
Summary: No matter how long, Yuri will always, always wait for Otabek.Otabek is an MMA fighter and Yuri is there to support him, even if he doesn’t want to.
Relationships: Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	I Will Wait for You

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing in this fandom and of course, I wrote my OTP. I always have this idea of how Otabek would be a great MMA fighter so this happened.
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy this and leave me lots of love if you do. (Love=comments and kuddos).

Yuri Plisetsky hates everything.

He hates the smell of sweat mixed with air salonpas. Hates the abnormally bright lights making it almost impossible to see. Hates the way people cram their bodies in the small room, bumping and grinding against each other with no respect for personal space. Hates the suffocating heat even if the air conditioner is in full blast (he knows because he had checked it every ten minutes for the past hour). Hates the roar of the crowd outside whenever the door is opened like they are clamoring for a fucking bloodbath.

_ Well, technically that was what they were here for. _

Not for him though, but the man who was currently doing warm ups in the middle of the room--a bit of shadow kickboxing if only to keep his blood flowing. 

From where he was sitting, he could see the glistening sweat of the man as he punched the air, his biceps flexing with every distinct movement. Yuri unconsciously licked his lips at the delicious way the wind cracked with his punches. His eyes drifted instead on the new shirt the man was wearing. It had come from the sponsors the other day--a black shirt with the logo of his team, a grizzly bear roaring at the front and a name at the back:  _ Altin _ .

Otabek Altin. Tonight’s challenger for Kazakhstan MMA Federation Cup. And…  _ his boyfriend  _ who by the way he hadn’t seen for almost two months, what with the conflicting schedules of their training and of course, after Otabek retired from figure skating, it became extra difficult for them to actually meet in competitions considering they now played different sports.

_ Sports _ . Yuri almost snorted at that. MMA and figure skating belonged in two different spectrums and somehow, calling the two in the same category seemed ill-fitting. He hated that Otabek had to retire early because he suddenly decided to try something else.  _ How is that even possible?  _ Turns out, Otabek was a man of many skills and talents. Still, the news shook the world of figure skating. None of that compared however to how it came as a surprise to him and how he was devastated for a few weeks worried how the sudden shift in interest would mean less reason to be with him. But he eventually understood. Besides, what was he supposed to do?

_ He loves the man _ . In a twisted, consuming way-- Yuri thought sullenly, giving another glance at Otabek who was now talking to his coach, Arman --a small Kazakh man with thinning hair and permanent scowl, probably for some last minute instructions. He wasn’t even sure if Otabek was still aware of his presence right now which, truth be told, stung a bit especially because he flew all the way here from St. Petersburg to Kazakhstan just to be with him in this important fight. He could easily blame his foul mood with his early morning flight because he did arrive early morning. But if he did, Otabek would know it wasn’t true. Truth be told, he wasn’t looking forward to this fight… or any other fight, for that matter.

A man wearing a headset and wearing a black vest with white ORGANIZER letters printed at the back, entered the room and everyone suddenly went silent… and tensed. Otabek’s coach talked to the man, nodding at his every word before he turned to Otabek and said, “Five minutes.” With those words, the room became alive again, members of the team picking up things and preparing to go. Even then Yuri could feel the tension grew thick in the air. Everyone looked anxious…  _ like they were the ones going into the octagon ring,  _ Yuri thought bitterly.

Save for Otabek who had _ that look _ in his eyes. The laser-like focus of someone who’s… well…  _ ready to kill _ He knew that expression too well, but it doesn’t mean it didn’t unnerve him. Otabek looked intimidating, and  _ dammit  _ because Yuri found that look weirdly hot. He hates to admit it but he knew, this sport was a perfect fit for the guy.

Otabek seemed to realize someone was looking in his direction and finally… finally, after hours of being ignored, Yuri felt a wave of relief when Otabek turned to him. Otabek spoke first to his coach who scowled at Yuri, before he started walking towards him, the intimidating look now gone and replaced with a softer, more familiar expression. Yuri wondered if that was the reason why the coach never liked him dropping by before a match. He didn’t care.

The room began to clear out as the team suddenly had the urge to quickly disperse in behalf of Otabek. This always happened, Yuri noted. A few moments before the fight, the team would let them be alone to properly say good luck and well, just let them be. In a way, he was thankful that Otabek was surrounded by considerate people, yes even his coach, who respect who he is. It’s not very usual to have an MMA fighter who is openly gay and dating an equally famous figure skater.

Otabek stopped in front of him and Yuri looked up from where he was sitting at the man who was towering above him. He had grown a few inches taller since last time and was almost the same height as Otabek, but the difference in their built had never been so obvious ever since… well, forever?

“Yura…” Otabek called, his face going softer, his voice cool and collected. The shift made Yuri’s heart melt but he was still a bit peeved for being ignored for the past hours.

Otabek was looking at him and Yuri clicked his tongue, knowing what Otabek was about to say. “I’m not going out there.” Yuri said adamantly, effectively cutting him off. They had talked about this in the early hours of the morning, curled up in bed together when Yuri arrived and before Otabek went out for his warm-up jog  _ (they didn’t have quick sex as both of them agreed he needed his full strength in this night’s fight, but they made out a lot which is almost the same but not quite there) _ . 

Otabek gave him an earnest look which he countered with a defiant scowl, that made the older man sigh in defeat, “I know that.”

Yuri bit his lower lip, feeling a little bit guilty. He knew how much Otabek would appreciate it if he came and actually sat on the reserved seat for him outside, right by his side of the octagon where it always had been in all his fights ever since he started, but Yuri just couldn’t. “I just…” Yuri started, “I’m not really willing to see you get hurt.” He hated how weak and dependent his voice sounded, but it was the truth.

He knew what a contact sport meant--he had watched a couple of MMA fights before during the time Otabek was gaining interest. And it was fine--the fights were brutal and most of the times, bloody, and he had no problem with them...but none of those fights had Otabek in them.

Otabek nodded, like the real understanding boyfriend that he is, “Then, just… wait here for me?” He asked that, like Yuri was going to go somewhere else. Yuri rolled his eyes, “Of course. Where do you think I’d be if not here?” He gave him a wide, toothed grin even when his insides were currently going haywire, “Now, go kill someone.” in which Otabek gave him a disapproving look that made his grin wider, “It’s not that kind of sport, Yura.”

He was shaking his head in amusement and Yuri stared at him like he was looking at the man for the last time. He tried to remove that nagging feeling that that is not far from possibility. The sport was dangerous. For the past year when Otabek was doing amateur fighting, he had read on the worst cases that could and has happened to other athletes. The possibilities of being hurt were just part of their reality now and Yuri just couldn’t shake the feeling of fear whenever Otabek has a fight. Of course, Otabek’s coach promised him that he will put Otabek’s safety above all else—not even winning or glory, but one can never be sure.

Yuri felt his throat constricting painfully as he forced his needy self to don’t even try to cry. He wanted to touch Otabek, that glistening face in front of him, knowing full well that the next time he would see it--it would probably be swollen, bloody or covered in welts.  _ It’s such a shame really,  _ he thought because Otabek’s face is probably his favorite face in the world.

He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something but his stomach is twisted in a tight coil and there he just stood there, looking. The need to touch him was getting worse, even more so when Otabek gave him the slightest of smile--the one that says  _ don’t worry, I’ll come back. _

_ You better.  _ He almost swore but the door opened and Otabek’s coach beckoned him outside. The Kazakh nodded and gave Yuri the briefest touch. In a low voice, he whispered, “See you in a bit.”

\---

His mouth was parched. He quickly realized that he hadn’t drank or eaten anything since they arrived at the arena five hours ago. There was a cafeteria at the upper deck of the arena, and a lot of restaurants littered the perimeter of the area but he chose a vending machine situated right by the backdoor where equipments were usually carried into. It was probably the quietest area in a rather livid venue that night. It served as a peaceful reprieve from the suffocating atmosphere inside, made him forget the nagging voice inside his head and the twisting coil in his stomach—two of the things he always feels whenever Otabek is in a fight.

He was drinking a can of coffee--which was probably a bad thing all things considering, a lit cigarette in one hand. Otabek would have reprimanded him for smoking, telling him how he should make healthier decisions especially now when the Olympics is right around the corner. But he wasn’t there now and as long as Yuri brushed his teeth and washed his hands--Otabek probably wouldn’t even notice.  _ Probably, _ he smirked bitterly because Otabek definitely would know.

He looked up at the sky overhead, appreciating the beauty of the stars--it was a fairly clear night with only the stars and the moon shining down at him. It was very different from the skyline in St. Petersburg and despite the sweltering heat, Almaty is a beautiful city. That was probably the reason why Otabek insists on training here even if he had told him time and again that he is welcome anytime in his perfectly good apartment back in St. Petersburg. 

Maybe Otabek liked living near his family, or familiar sights. He wasn’t one to complain how Otabek’s complexion became tanner because of his usual morning jogs under Kazakhstani heat. Maybe, Otabek just didn’t like the cold. Maybe, he just didn’t want to stay with Yuri.

It was pretty difficult for the two of them to deal with the shift on Otabek’s career and Yuri had never been the one to stop voicing out his opinion. He remembered the pain in Otabek’s eyes when Yuri told him he didn’t understand why. Otabek told him that of all people, his opinion was the only one it mattered.

Yuri swallowed back his tears and told Otabek it was okay.  _ But he didn’t want to see him hurt. That was normal, right? _

He stood there finishing his coffee and enjoying how he could almost pretend that everything was where it was supposed to be inside the arena.

He wanted to go back to the hotel with Otabek, God knows they haven’t spent much time lately. What with the coming Olympics and him finally going pro. This was his sixth fight as a pro-MMA fighter and so far he was doing well since his debut. He knew Otabek reveled in his undefeated record and Yuri can’t help but be proud of his boyfriend.

An alert sounded off on his phone and he looked down to see it was a message from Katsuki Yuuri. He knew the Japaneae Yuuri watched Otabek’s fight live despite Victor’s protests. The couple treated them like their own children which wouldn’t be far from the truth if only Victor got his head out of his ass and actually confess his obvious feelings for Yuuri. 

Enough about that, Yuri held his breath as he read the message. 

** _Tell Otabek congratulations on the great fight. I thought with the knock down that he was a goner but that submission at the very end was soooo amazing! I mean, what a comeback! He’s so cool!_ **

Yuri smirked, feeling smug. _ Yeah, my boyfriend is pretty amazing and hot and he’s so in love with me. _ He couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride with how Yuuri openly admired  _ his _ Otabek. 

He wanted to welcome Otabek when he went back to his holding room so he hurried back inside, desperate to see how badly beat up his boyfriend was, but also excited to see that gleeful, boyish look the man always wore whenever he wins.

—

There was a flurry of movement. People talking, bodies bumping and pushing against each other as Yuri arrived in the same room he was a few minutes ago. The atmosphere has totally changed, what with more people and the panicked noises coming from the crowd.

He didn’t know what was going on but he assumed that the interview wasn’t over yet, except he realized there were no cameras in the room. Instead, a stretcher was squeezed into the room, the sea of people parting to accommodate it. Yuri stood there, not knowing what to do but the coil inside his stomach was tightening and he was having a hard time to breathe.

The voice in his head kept repeating a question he wanted to ignore but he couldn’t because amidst the confusion…  _ where the hell is Otabek? _

He saw Otabek’s coach looking worried and he pushed towards his direction. He was looking down on the floor, face scrunched in an impossibly helpless scowl. Yuri kept looking at him, afraid to look at where he was looking, “Where is he?” He asked adamantly.

Otabek’s coach turned to him like he had seen a ghost before he turned away and back on the floor. Yuri had no choice.

On the floor, the stretcher laid open and two emergency professionals were prodding, checking and trying to wake up an unconscious Otabek.

Then it was all silent. It was like a dream. Yuri was standing in the middle of the room, looking down at Otabek’s face. His face was surprisingly clean, save for some swelling on his jaw and nose which Yuri was fully aware would become ugly bruises in no time. Even so, Otabek looked so handsome, his rugged boyish charm was so endearing. He wanted to kiss him. Wanted to tell him how much he missed him and since the fight is over, they could finally fuck until both of them would get lost in each other.

“We need to take him to the hospital. He looked like he suffered a concussion.” The wind carried the voices as he stared solemnly at Otabek. Then, his boyfriend was being lifted. Yuri reached out and was able to touch the man’s fingertips before he was whisked away.

Everything was a blur, then. He remembered someone talking to him, and him nodding. Then someone was leading him to the ambulance where he sat down wordlessly as he stared at the unconscious Otabek. He remembered people talking, the sound of the breathing machine and heart monitor. He remembered everything, but somehow it didn’t make sense.

The hospital emergency room was no better. The flurry of people moving around Otabek and the strong smell of disinfectant made him nauseous. Otabek was pushed in a corner, a white curtain pulled over the area, effectively cutting off Yuri’s view of him. The last image etched in his brain was Otabek still unconscious wires attached to his forehead and chest; a respirator 

When Otabek’s coach came behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder, that was when reality hit him hard. He choked on a sob and turned to look at the old man who offered him a soft sigh as he said, “He was okay when we came in but he collapsed when he was about to sit down.”

Yuri stared, “But he won?”

Otabek’s coach nodded but Yuri could see there was no pride nor happiness in his eyes, “He did.”

Yuri couldn’t understand it. Otabek won, he is now a champion. And now, he’s in the hospital, unconscious. How did it happen? It didn’t make any sense.

He was left alone after some time when Arman told him he has to make some calls. He sat down on one of the benches across the curtained off bed where there were still doctors and nurses buzzing around Otabek. He didn’t even realize he was shaking until a kind nurse offered him a blanket which he accepted and draped over his shoulders. That didn’t stop him from shaking because he wasn’t really cold.

The curtains were pulled aside and revealed Otabek looking frail and white, different apparatuses attached to his bare chest as nurses pushed him away. Yuri stood up and caught up with them until a nurse told him to stay put because they’d just take him to get an MRI and they’d be back soon.

He didn’t want to stay. He didn’t want Otabek out of sight. But at that moment, what he wanted didn’t matter. So he sat back down again, heart constricting painfully, chest heaving and he buried his face into his hands until his phone buzzed to life from a phonecall.

“Yuri!” It was Victor and Yuri didn’t know but the familiar voice made everything worse. It amplified his fear of losing Otabek, of losing the only person he cared and loved so much. He hated crying in public almost as much as letting Victor know he is crying but he couldn’t stop himself from letting out a broken sob, “Vitya…”

“Oh, Yuratchka. I’m really sorry to hear what happened.” Victor said and Yuri could hear the deep concern in his voice. It was soothing, at the very least, “How is he? Where is he now?”

He took a couple of breaths to steady himself, “He is still unconscious… they, they needed to scan his brain.” He said in between his sobs, “I’m scared I’d lose him. I.. don’t know what to do.”

“Shh..” Victor hushed him, “Don’t think about that. Yuuri and I will be on the next flight to Kazakhstan. Until then, please don’t stress too much.”

Like a foster parent, Victor gave him a few reminders to take care of himself despite what happened, before he hung up.

Just in time, Otabek was wheeled back to the curtained off station and a young doctor with dark hair and dark eyes began looking for whoever is with Otabek. Yuri stepped up and the doctor eyed him curiously.

“I’m his boyfriend.” He said and maybe there was something desperate in his tone or his eyes but the doctor sighed and gave him a nod.

“It’s a concussion. The blows on his head really gave him a beating. His brain is swelling which. so we gave him medicine to reduce his brain’s swelling. Right now, he’s in an induced-coma because we don’t want to put too much pressure on his already swollen brain.”

Yuri was just looking at the doctor’s mouth as they formed words.  _ Induced coma _ . That was the same thing that happened to his grandfather before he passed away last year. He relived those moments of talking to his grandfather, knowing he could hear him but couldn’t say anything. He remembered watching the once lively, grumpy old man deteriorate right before his very eyes. He wasn’t sure he could handle seeing Otabek in the same state.

He opened his mouth to say something, but hesitated. Thankfully, the doctor noticed and paused to give him the chance. He cleared his throat. “Will he… wake up again?”

The doctor gave him a poignant look before he checked his charts and in a soft voice, he replied “We’ll do everything we can to help him.” He then looked at Yuri, “But right now we can only wait and hope for the best.”

—

Arman came back while the doctor was still discussing things to Yuri which he didn’t understand. He told Yuri he had already told Otabek’s parents and that he could go back to the hotel if he wanted to, which was preposterous because he would never leave Otabek’s side.

Eventually, Otabek was transferred to an intensive care unit where only one visitor is allowed per patient. Nobody dared question Yuri when he followed the nurse to the room where he would change to a hospital suit.

When he entered Otabek’s room, all he hears are the electronic beeping and buzzing of the machines connected to his sleeping boyfriend. He moved to touch Otabek’s face, tracing the bruises forming like yellow paint on a blank canvas. He promised himself not to cry but he felt himself immediately tearing up at how fragile the man looked.

“Beka…” he called. He knew comatose patients could still hear and he wanted the man to hear him, to know he was here and that he would never leave.

He picked up Otabek’s hand and brings it close to his cheeks, using it to cup his face. He could feel the pulse on Otabek’s wrist, it was weak but it was there. But the warm hands that used to touch him was cold against his and his heart sank. 

“You promised me you’d come back.” He closed his eyes and felt the tears come, “Fucking come back to me, Altin.”

** _...to be continued..._ **

  
  
  
  



End file.
